


Rent Snake

by AndName



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco Malfoy, Destitute Draco, Draco Malfoy is Clueless About Muggle Things, Draco's Shower Wank, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Grimmauld renovations, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Indian Harry, Kneazles (Harry Potter), Literally renting a snake, Luna Lovegood - Freeform, M/M, Magical Creature Shop, Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Rent Snake, Responsible Harry, Sharing a...snake???, Short Draco Malfoy, Sorry Fred, Top Harry Potter, canon typical death, emotional draco, first fic, hermione granger - Freeform, multi-chaptered, no beta we die like women, no eighth year, pet snake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29035125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndName/pseuds/AndName
Summary: Harry clearly hadn't known what to expect when the I rapped my fist on the scared front door of Grimmauld Place one uneventful Saturday. I waited a good minute at the stoop, anxiety a boa constrictor around my ribs, trying to keep Tasha from slithering into my cloak.Seeing no response, I beat the door again before switching to the morbid knocker which dented the ancient door further with a resounding bang.Finally, the door unlocked and Potter hauled it open, only for me to thrust a familiar white snake into his face."Take her."
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 21
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

ONE  
Draco

Harry clearly hadn't known what to expect when the I rapped my fist on the scared front door of Grimmauld Place one uneventful Saturday. I waited a good minute at the stoop, anxiety a boa constrictor around my ribs, trying to keep Tasha from slithering into my cloak.

Seeing no response, I beat the door again before switching to the morbid knocker which dented the ancient door further with a resounding bang.  
Finally, the door unlocked and Potter hauled it open, only for me to thrust a familiar white snake into his face.  
"Take her."

Three months after surviving a war, I was two knuts shy of a galleon. I would have to be to come to the bloody Savior of the Wizarding World, the boy who lived twice. But seeing no other option, a Slytherin will do as they must.

"Draco?" Potter exclaims, stupid eyebrows raising over his stupid glasses and into his stupid hair. He raises a tanned hand to Tasha for her to smell and I want to smack it away out of pure pettiness. I don't. I glare at the ground and grit out again, "Take her."

"Uh..." Potter nonsensically says, but I feel Tasha's weight leave my arms and she -no doubt- gleefully receives Potters attention.  
Good, I remind myself, this is what she wanted. It's for the best.  
"You alright there, Malfoy?"

My lips twist in a helpless snarl as I continue to look at the ground, palms stinging where my fingernails dig in. I squeeze my eyes shut in efforts to bury the heat pooling there.  
"Just fine."

Potter makes a hissing noise and I look up to see Tasha curling around Potters broad shoulders, pressing her tapered snoot into his ear.  
Potter is looking at me strangely.  
"Stop looking at me like that!" I shout and a dam bursts inside me, anger and grief and worry overflowing, spilling out as daggers aimed towards him. Always him.  
His stupid eyebrows stay in orbit, "I didn't say anything. Though I was going to ask why you're here with Tasha?"  
"You can have her. She's yours now. She always liked you better anyway." I sneer.  
"Wha- No. You're not giving me your snake."

I shake my head hard, my loose hair- I ran out of pomade last week- falling across my forehead. He doesn't understand.  
"Just take her, Potter." My voice comes out as tight as a bow string, threatening to snap and unleash an avalanche of bleeding emotion.  
Just breathe, I remind myself. Please...

But Potter just doesn't know when to give up.

"I'm not taking your snake, Malfoy."  
"Did you not think I heard you the first time you utter dolt? I don't want you to have my bloody snake!"  
Potter blinks his bottle green eyes framed by those hideous glasses. I wish I could say they didn't do something to me but they did.  
To my eternal shame.

"Just have her alright?" I end on a broken note and, Merlin's saggy tits, a strangled sob bursts free from my chest.  
I bury my burning face in my cold hands, an onslaught of emotions swallowing the air from my lungs, and the shame was overwhelming. I need to go.  
I stumble back a step, almost tripping over my hideous, moth-eaten carpet bag.

Snatching it up, I shove a hand down into it and feel for the velvet bag before grabbing it and offering the small item to Potter, glaring at his watery image through my bloody shameful tears, "Here's her tank and her heat lamp- you'll have to get another bulb- and her favorite rocks and molting potions, and-" I sob again.

When will this nightmare ever end? 

"Calm down!" Potter says earnestly and it fills me with molten rage.  
"Don't tell me to calm down, Potty!"  
He reaches a hand out and I slap it away, "Stop making this harder than it has to be, you twat! You really think I’d be here unless I bloody had to? I'm trying to be a better person and I won't let you take that away from me!"

Tasha hissed at my raised voice and I clamped my mouth shut, still holding out the small bag which Potter hesitantly took.  
"Can't we talk about this? Come in and I'll put the kettle on."

I stare at my scuffed-up dress shoes and say miserably, "I don't want your bloody tea."  
"Come on," Potter says firmly and steps back to allow me though. I clutch my hideous bag to my chest and for some reason can't find it within myself to disobey.  
I follow blindly though my mother’s ancestral home, all dark textured wallpaper and missing portraits.  
Everything is coated in dust and clearly in the midst of remodeling.

"Don't you have a house elf?" I can't help the pointed remark, like a knee jerk reaction.  
"I used to, but he moved to Hogwarts when I took ownership of the house." Potter is...shockingly casual. I stare at his back clad in muggle cloths. He's filled out since I saw him last. But as every wizarding tale recounted adoringly, he was on the run for a year by then.

I shut my eyes from the painful onslaught of memory and focus on the room, the kitchen.

Its decor is as dreary as the rest, old fashioned even for a pureblood home, with a wood stove and water basin. The only new appliances are a large white box humming by the pantry, taking up an unfair amount of walking space and a matching smaller one on the counter with a glass front.

Potter must see me looking because he says sheepishly, "I haven't gotten to the kitchen yet, it's still in the planning stages of remodeling."  
Hollowly, I nod and take a seat on a stool, carpet bag pressed tight to my hollowed-out chest. Potter rearranges Tasha and goes about making tea both wandlessly and wordlessly.

Why is he so calm? Where is the Potter I knew from school? I could always count on finding a fight with him but now...he's grown up and I’ve become a pathetic mess.  
The urge to run was growing inside of me, but I have no place to run to. I'm quite literally holding my house in my lap.

"So you want me to have your snake?" Potter asks, setting a chipped cup in front of me.  
"Yes." I lift the steaming glass halfway to my mouth to blow on it, then realize, "You didn't ask me how I take it."  
"Didn't have to. Milk and three sugars."

His face has turned handsome, strong jaw and tanned skin, a shadow of facial hair. This couldn't be the same Potter.  
"How?", I ask perplexed, the question applying to so many different things.  
"Years of obsession. You can't deny your part either." He tosses out as if it were nothing, "Malfoy, why would you want me to have Tasha? You've had her with you since fifth year, you can't just give her away. And to me of all people?"

I suck down a deep breath and let the stretch of my lungs burn. "I can't care for her anymore. She's expensive. Her food. Her heating lamp bulb burnt out yesterday and I can't afford another. I can't find an apartment with her; no wizarding establishment will take me for obvious reasons and she's not a normal Muggle pet. I can't have her."

Harry nods, his eyes not filled with pity but understanding. "I get that, but why me? Why not pansy or another friend? Or give her to a trained professional. She's rather a rare breed, right?"

"Father b-" I cut myself off from my automatic response. No, in the end the only thing my father gave me was shame and self-loathing. "Yes. She's an albino Blue Scaled Whistle-Tongue."

"I've never heard her whistle." Potter says to me, watching curiously as she lowers her considerable weight from his arm to the counter top and towards me.  
I push back from the counter before she can reach me and cross my arms over my aching chest, spitting archly, "She's a snake, of course she doesn't whistle."  
"It was a joke Malfoy." He gives me a look.

"Oh," I look anywhere but him, cheeks reddening. He has the snake now, I should just leave. Good riddance.

I try not to look at her trying to reach me, it's just adding salt to the wound. Best have a clean break, or however that Muggle saying goes.  
"What I was getting at, is that Tasha is a valuable animal and you'd be losing money by just giving her away. Why don't we...come to an agreement, yeah?"  
I wrinkle my nose in distaste, "You want me to peddle her off?"

Potter shook his head sternly, his birds’ nest of curls coming alive, "No, I was thinking more like a rent situation. I enjoy her company but you raised her, right? So why don't you set a price and I can pay you for her. Not necessarily rent to own either, you can keep her as yours the whole time."

Potter's making sense. The dolt is being more rational and...and adult-like than most actual adults. His tone holds authority, but not like Father's. Despite the rivalry between us, he's being level headed.

A small spark of admiration spells a Lumos in my chest.  
"That's a decent idea. I'll set the price and we can decide installments later. But I have one thing I'd like to add."  
Potter nods along and I move closer to the counter, letting Tasha slide her smooth scales along my hand and twist around my arm.  
"What's that?"

I bite back my uncertainty and the smile threatening to grace my face at Tasha's familiar weight, and thrust my nose in the air, "I'll be coming around every week to check on my...property to make sure it isn't being mistreated?"

Potter smiles. Harry Potter smiles at me, Draco Lucius Malfoy. I'm shocked stupid as I stare at his teeth with their slightly crooked canines.  
Potter smiling was something I had only seen from a distance and he is so...such a bloody Gryffindor.  
"Alright, we can make that work."  
"Alright," I repeat, my own lips twitching, "I'll have to look into pricing more, but I'll leave her with you and come back...sometime next week."

Potter nods, then takes the shrunken bag of Tasha's items and resizes it to the correct dimensions.  
The velvet drawstring -protected with a cushioning charm- takes up most of the counter. Potter undoes the tie and takes a look inside.  
"Hey Malfoy, how much do you figure this was worth in all?"  
I shake my head firmly though he can't see me, "No, you get those free. I have no use for them."

A flash of annoyance crosses his features before he settles his jaw back into a determined square, "Consider it a down payment then."  
I stroke Tasha and scowl, "Fine. The tank and all I would guess to be at maybe 100 Gallons. I'm not sure exactly, but some of her potions are rather hard to come by and take a hand more practiced than mine."

"So 120?" Potter summarized.  
"I won't take charity Potter."  
Potter seems to make a huffing noise, "Of course not."  
"What's that supposed to mean?" I shoot back, clutching Tasha closer to me and she gives a minute hiss in annoyance.  
Potter shrugs his broad shoulders, "You're a Malfoy. Obviously not like your father, but you're still full of pride."

A part of me purrs at Potter, my enemy, seeing a difference between my father and I, but the rest bristles in annoyance at the insult.

"My bed's been laid now I will lie in it. Now take her."

The transfer of Tasha isn't an easy one. She's a smart snake, incredibly so as her breed is quite magical, and seemed to pick up on the switch of residence. She slithers up my arm faster as Potter lifts her belly to reel her in. Potters warm hands were perfect for snake handling while I had to cast warming charms on mine for Tasha's comfort.

Once the snake is handed over, Potter lays her over his shoulders and wordlessly conjurers a Gringotts bank note and muggle ballpoint pen.  
He scrawls the information quickly and slides it towards me, "500 Gallons even. For the bag and all."

The bag was magical so it did make some sense. I give a consenting nod, my brain leaping ahead to apartments and down payments as I take the money.  
I find myself holding it carefully, slightly shaken that an amount that used to mean so little to me now means food and shelter. A measly 500 gallons can change my life.  
The burning tightness in my chest softens its grasp. I'll be able to have my own place, to be on my own for the first time in my life.

Potter hisses at Tasha in Parseltongue and I break into a secret smile.

Leaving Grimmauld Place, I walk without such anxiety and my pride intact, 500 gallons in my pocket and plans on my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

TWO

Harry

"Is Draco Malfoy here?" Hermione asks, her warm brown eyes filled with shock. Tasha's tank was set up against the accent wall in the remodeled sitting room. The large fireplace she had come out of was one of two fireplaces with floo accessibility in the old house. The intricate fireplace is one of the only remaining remnants of the old room, the mahogany wood holding the same warmth as the honey toned walls and soft furniture.

I sit up from the couch where I already had 'research' and tea set out, "He's not. He did come by last Saturday though."

Hermione softens, her fingers uncurling from fists, "What's the snake doing here then?" She shrugs off her purple peacoat and plops down onto the couch beside me, reaching for the steaming tea cup.

"We came up with an agreement. He isn't doing so well Hermione. He wanted me to have her."

"So she's yours?" She cuts in, eyebrows raised. A thick scarf is wound around her throat; her nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. Her and Ron's apartment doesn't have a floo. The closest access is two blocks away and public.

"We came up with an agreement. I'm renting her until he's on his feet, then he can have her back."

Hermione freezes while unwinding her scarf, "You're helping him?"

I shrug and flip through a home design magazine, looking at tile floor designs for the master bath.

"Harry, he's _Malfoy_."

"Hermione, the war is over." I make an effort to keep my tone normal.

She seems to assess me, then kicks her boots off and grabs another 'research' magazine from the natural wood coffee table, "I'm just surprised. You've hated each other for years."

"I don't want to hold any grudges. The war is over and Draco isn't in Azkaban. All the deserving Death Eaters have been punished. He's on his own and clearly doesn't want charity. He just seemed...different Hermione."

She has a strange look on her face, like she's trying to bury a smile, hiding behind the magazine.

"What?" I turn to her fully now, leaving the tile design article.

She hums a little tune and shoves my knee with her socked foot, "Just saw a rather clever idea"

"Hermione," I say, crossing my arms over my worn out quidditch jersey that has gotten rather tight in the years since I was on the team. It's so comfortable though in cold weather because of the heating charms interwoven in the fabric.

"Oh fine you big bully," She shoves me with her foot again and I make to grab it, "It's just that you called him _Draco_. I thought it was interesting."

"Oh." I turn back to my magazine, cheeks warm. Uncomfortable, I change the subject, "I was thinking about the kitchen. It is one of the most important rooms in the house and it's barely useable now. There's no place for the fridge and even if I knew how to use the stove, it's ancient and would burn the place down anyway."

She laughs, "Very true. Any ideas?"

"I really like the Weasley's kitchen. I want something like that. And lots of space to move. It's crowded now with that gigantic island in the way."

"Hmm," She tucks her curly, chin length hair behind her ears, "I recommend you have seven kids then."

I snort, slapping the magazine at her, "Oh shut it. I think I want to do the kitchen before we start on the guest room. You should’ve seen the look Malfoy had on his face. Though it could've been aimed at the microwave, I'm not sure."

"He was in the kitchen?" She is once again taken by surprise.

I scratch the back of my neck, "Er, yeah? He was a bit upset so I made tea."

"Harry." She scolds, looking slightly terrifying, "You're telling me that _Malfoy_ came to your door in tears, gave you his snake _willingly_ , and you're _paying_ him. It just doesn't make any sense to me and you're not explaining anything, Harry."

I shift, uncomfortable on the previously very comfortable couch. "The tears didn't start until a bit later..."

Hermione grabs my hand and squeezes her cold fingers around mine, "Harry, just help me understand. Please."

I sigh and rub my eyes. Taking a minute to round up my scattered thoughts, I start.

"I don't want to say that he's _changed_. He's still Malfoy. But different. He's more...vulnerable. I just can't help but think that he was this way all along. I keep looking back and remembering moments where the Malfoy mask lifted. He saved my life at Malfoy Manor, if he hadn't done what he did who knows which side would have won the war."

Hermione nods, "Alright. If that’s what you think, I support you. But it'll take some time before I'm ready to forgive him."

A warm smile splits my face, "Thanks."

Hermione sets her empty cup of tea on the table and surveys the stacks of magazines, tape, and boards labeled things like, 'Upstairs bedroom to the left' and 'Half bath to linen closet'.

She lifts a huge stack of the magazines and slams them down on the sofa cushion that separates us, making them bounce the slick covers sliding all over the place.

"Now time to get to work, lazy arse."

* * *

Draco

I wake up to a bed spring grinding into my hip and even though I’m up to my nose in blankets, I'm still shivering. I curl into a tight ball, tucking my frozen feet closer to me until I'm gripping my knees to my chest, morning erection squished.

The mattress still stinks, even after dousing it in the rest of my designer French perfume.

I smile, pressing my face into my swan down pillow, because despite the annoyances, I'm safe and out of that damned carpet bag.

And I have a job interview today.

I sit up and stretch, unleashing a shrill yawn which is interrupted halfway through by a violent shiver. Clutching the white fur coat I slept in (because why not? It's the warmest thing I own and I have no one to show off for) I shift my legs from the mountain of blankets and find my heated slippers. They're as soft as clouds and feel as if the sun is defrosting my frost-bitten toes.

I laid out my clothes the night before, so I can immediately start getting ready, trudging my way across the one room apartment to the bathroom for a hot shower.

I pause at the bathroom door, feeling uprooted. I always switch Tasha's nighttime lamp to her day before I do anything else. Or I guess I used to.

Breaking a multiple years long habit is not a good feeling.

_I miss her_.

After only four days, my mind is constantly coming back to Tasha. How she's doing. If Potter is taking good care of her.

I can't stop it. My heart picks up its pace and I feel unbalanced.

I could just go by Potter's later. If the interview goes well.

I could just tell him I’ve completed my research. He'll believe me. He has no reason to believe anything else.

I nod to myself and close the bathroom door behind me.

The bathroom is small and sloppy. Despite my strongest cleaning charms, which did do a toll on the mildew and mold, the mortar of the tiles still looks grimy and the water damage to the ceiling is unsightly. The shower had no curtain when I moved in, so I had to transfigure one from a spare bedsheet. The sink and toilet are right beside one another with no counter space for my many hygiene products.

I could have gotten a better apartment. But why would I risk it without a job and the deal with Potter not a signed guarantee?

I turn on the shower and wait for it to warm up as I begin the process of removing my fur coat as well as the two layer of clothing underneath.

My trousers a puddle on the floor, I shiver and stick my hand into the water to test the temperature. With a groan, I wait another minute before the water has had enough time to wake up, freezing my cock off in the drafty room.

Stepping into the hot water was what muggles call heaven. I had to concentrate to remain standing or else I might melt into a puddle and slip down the gurgling drain.

I lather my hair with a special shampoo that prevents my white hair from getting a sickly yellow tinge and exfoliate my face, mind wander to Grimmauld Place.

I wonder if Potter set Tasha's terrarium up, if he bought her a new day lamp. They're probably getting along just jolly, Tasha not knowing when to shut her gob when it comes to Potter.

I should probably send an owl to say I’m coming later.

My morning erection hasn't deflated yet, if anything it's grown. I sigh, deliberating whether it would be best to ignore it or relieve the distracting heat. I've never been able to last very long, which is a good thing when I'm on a schedule and don't want to be late.

I take myself in hand, warm water sliding down my back, and close my eyes. Warm hands replace the water, stroking my spine and a muscled chest pressed tight against my back. Darkly tanned hands grip my pale hips and an open mouth kiss travels down my throat to my shoulder.

I squeeze my eyes tight, imagining a rough, large hand wrap around me and massaging my aching erection while teeth scrape my thin shoulder. I lean forward, rubbing my head with my thumb and reach behind me to spread my cheeks.

The foggy air inside the shower makes my gasping breaths a struggle. Water runs in heavy rivets down my back and between my spread cheeks like how I imagine a warm tongue would be.

I clumsily rub my hole, pressing my fingertips against it and gasp at the pressure.

The heat in my throbbing cock becomes unbearable and I moan loud enough to echo in the shoddy room, spilling over the shower floor and imagine that dark hand speeding up, milking me 'till I’m over sensitive.

I rest my head against the shower wall and pant, the horrific realization burning my consciousness that I just....no.

Morgan and Morgana no.

I wanked to the thought of _Harry Potter_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This second chapter came a lot earlier than I expected. I intended for it to be twice as long but I'm leaving the next part as it's own chapter because I'm juggling a few ideas around about what job Draco gets? I always liked reading fics with him as a barista in a coffee shop or maybe a waiter. But today I stopped by a pet store to look at fish (there was a bird there that told me 'you're pretty' then acted all bashful about it loll) and I can definitely see Draco getting a job at a magical pet store.
> 
> I was a lot more thorough in editing this chapter! Also, I don't live in the UK so the language is not 100% percent accurate. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And Draco's shower wank ;)))
> 
> Also, thank you @Lapaula (Lapaula_River) -idk if that @ worked- for the formatting tip!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I'm really surprised at how fast it's moving :)

THREE

Harry

Hermione left around 3 to get ready for a date with Ron at some posh restaurant, leaving just Tasha and I to get the actual work done.

I lift her from her tank and carry her up two flights of creaking stairs to the master bedroom, placing her on my dark green duvet while I suit up to begin painting the master bathroom.

I toss my jersey onto the bed and reach for a old, paint-splattered T-shirt. Tasha immediately darts for the jersey I discarded, diving into it and curling up into a content ball. The whole 90 centimeters of her doesn't quite fit, the bottom half of her body hanging out of the neck.

" _Do you like that_?" I hiss at her with a smile, kneeling at the edge of the bed and she pokes her head out to peer at me.

" _Very warm! Better than best heating rock_."

My grin widens and Tasha hides her head.

" _You can have it then as a present, How about that?_ "

She tucks herself deeper in the fabric and makes a sound almost like a purr. I stroke the exposed patch of glass smooth scales and get up off the soft carpet.

Almost as soon as I head for the bathroom where the paint and supplies already are, Tasha stops me.

" _Where you go? Come back_." Tasha hisses in a whining tone and I wave a hand to the bathroom door.

" _I'm going to go paint. I don't think the fumes would be very good for you_."

Tasha rises up from her jersey-bed and cocks her head sideways like a dog, " _Paint? How long_?"

" _An hour or so, I'll come back out to see you though._ " She seems more curious than panicked.

" _Long time. Pale hair never paints long. Don't see me, smell bad_."

I stare at the snake, confused and trying to figure out what she's talking about.

_Pale hair is her name for Draco. Draco paints? What?_ It doesn't add up in my head. Though I am speaking to a snake and a playful one at that.

I shake my confusion away, shrugging her silliness off with a laugh, " _Alright, I won't. Don't cause any trouble_."

I close the bathroom door behind me and face the gutted, plastic covered room. It was a huge bathroom with a high ceiling and beautiful grey stone bath that was inlaid in the floor. The whole side with the sink area has a golden hued, decades old beveled mirror with little cherubs along the edges. It had personality and would be a pain to move, so Hermione and I decided to design the room to match it.

The walls were bare and stained where Hermione and I ripped out the old wallpaper and everything was ready to begin painting. Casting a bubble head charm over myself, I get to work.

I pry open the gallon of primer, a neutral light grey to be painted over with the baby blue later. I stir the dull shade well and pour it into a roller brush tray.

The lull of painting the walls flat grey makes the time blur, only interrupted some time later by a ringing alarm I sense from the wards.

I drop my roller brush, splattering the grey paint all over the tarp. 

_The wards being attacked._

I grab my wand from the back pocket of my jeans and pop my bubble head charm, rush out of the room, bolting down the two sets of stairs and down the long central hallway of the first floor.

The front door appears perfectly fine and when I reach out with my magic I feel no-one trespassing. I feel nothing but an agitated buzz.

The door rattles again, the ward magic flashes an angry red as it blocks the spell. Despite there being no one according to the wards, someone is outside that door.

I lower my wand and cautiously unlock the door.

I ease open the door, and feeling like an utter dolt, say "Hello?"

There's a beat of silence and I open the door all the way to see the only person that the wards don't pick up already pushing past me.

"Draco, wait. What happened to you?"

He shoots me a rotten look.

_Alright then_.

\----------------

Draco

My previous good mood takes a nose dive down a cliff after my Potter tainted shower wank.

I throw on my clothes, a pair of muggle slacks and forest green button up. Halfway through the buttons I realize the similarity between the shirt and Potters eyes. With a sharp flick, I spell it off and decide on another shirt.

The muggle flat has a strange kitchen. In the corner of the room is a large white box like I had seen in Potter's kitchen. Except this one rattles and hisses, the inside unable to maintain a cold temperature because of the bad seal. I have to spell it every day so it's contents don't go bad.

I grab the carton of eggs and crack three into a skillet over a open flame. With a spatula I attempt to flip them after the edges have turned brown, but the bottoms are stuck. Pale yolk breaks and runs all over the pan.

I leave the skillet in search of a plate and return to the eggs to see them seemingly done. The white part seems opaque enough.

Scraping them off the skillet is harder than I thought. Once the over cooked eggs are plated, I throw the pan in the sink to wash up later and turn the water on for the baked-on egg to soak. Steam instantly hits my face and knuckles. I yelp and grab my hand, before thinking to shove it under the still running cold water.

My left palm is an angry red and I curse myself aloud for not taking a healing class at Hogwarts.

When I sit down at the wobbly table and finally take a bite of the unappetizing breakfast, I screw my face up and immediately go in search of the salt.

_It's going to be a terrible day_.

\-----------------

After the disastrous morning, I try to shake off the looming grey cloud over my head and dawn my best Malfoy charm. _I_ will _get this job_.

The business was down the street from my apartment building and quaint. It was on the corner and the front was made of glass, a sign above it reading 'The Java Bean' in a squiggly font and a charming little coffee bean to the side.

A muggle coffee shop wasn't ideal. I don't even drink coffee, having been raised on the ever-sensible Earl Grey with the occasional expensive Oriental tea for variety.

But it was a start. No upstanding Wizarding business would take me, and without one of those Muggle driver's licenses it was my best option.

I smooth down my slacks and examine myself in the glass of the building. The backup white button-down shirt was nowhere near as flattering, but it did its job.

With one last look, I head inside.

There's a tall man behind the counter in an apron, boredly refilling the pastry case. The sound of the door cheerfully chiming makes him glance up, or, well, down at me.

"What can I get for you today?" He asks in a monotone voice. I don't let my smile slip as I approach the counter.

"I'm here for a job interview. Your manager said to come here, so here I am."

The man, Charles, based on his name tag, scowled.

"She's in her office."

I wait a beat, but he makes no move to go get her. Anger flares up in me at a _Muggle_ treating me this way. The whole of the wizarding world and now Muggles too?

My smile drooped into more of a pained grimace. I need this job.

I _need_ this job.

"Could you go get her, please?"

Charlies scoffs, then rolls his eyes. Dragging his feet he turns to get the manager, and to my shock, mutters, "Fuck'n twink."

I stare open mouthed at the door he disappeared through, a sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach.

I really need this job. But I really hate that fucking twat Charles already. My Malfoy pride has been at my disadvantage my whole like, though. I won't let it ruin this opportunity too.

I think back to Tasha for comfort, to slow my thundering heart.

I need a job to get her back. Even with the hefty price I calculated for Potter's rent, I can't rely on him. I can't rely on anyone.

But this isn't the only job I can get, just the most convenient. Less time walking through the frozen sludge of a London winter.

Charles comes stalking back, a perky looking woman about my height, trailing behind. She smiles widely at me, her red lips stretched taunt, "Hello Draco! My name is Tammy!"

I reach out a hand and she shakes it surprisingly hard, jarring my shoulder.

"You've met my nephew Charles, hmm? You'll be working alongside him today, learning the ropes and such, I'm sure the two of you will get along like two peas’ in a pod! You both are such nice boys."

I nod along despite the growing sense of panic, glancing over to Charles who's looking directly down at me with a curled lip.

I swallow, suddenly queasy.

"I thought I was having an interview? With questions and such? I brought my resume."

I had researched extensively about Muggle job interviews, even formulating my own pretend work experience. The list was impressive, though not overly so.

She waves her hands, "Oh no, no, love. This isn't that kind of place. We're family owned and operated. Hands on is the only way to test the fit!"

"Oh," I breath out, dejected.

She looks at me, cocking her head, "You can give me your resume and I’ll take a peek at it if you really want?"

Deciding honesty would be best, I say, "No, it's quite alright. I just overprepared as I tend to do. I just really want this job."

She beams at me, "Oh you're precious. I'm sure you'll do just fine with Charles here teaching you! Now, I’ll be in my office sorting through paperwork. There’re two doors on the left in the hallway, one to the loo and the other to the break room. I'll be coming in to check how you're getting on."

I smile back at her, though it's strained under the sheer weight of the dark glare aimed at me.

She hurries off after another overly excited goodbye and leaves me with her 'nice boy' nephew Charles.

He throws an apron at me which hits me in the side of the head before I catch it and level a glare at that complete _arse_.

He smirks and the doorbell chimes with a customer.

It's two hours later before I see Tammy again. Thankfully Charles largely ignored me while I stood bored out of my mind, tapping away at some sort of Muggle device.

She bustles out of the hallway and pauses with a frown, "Charles, I thought I told you to show Draco here the ropes?"

"Been busy." He replies shortly.

Her face turns pissed and she snaps, "I can hear that bell from my office you know. And it's never busy on a Wednesday."

He groans and gets up from his chair, "Fine. I'll show him how to work the machines, alright?"

She nods and with an apologizing smile to me, returns to her office.

Charles slams into my shoulder as he passes by, "Hurry the fuck up, shorty."

My fingers dig into my palms as I trail behind him.

Immediately, Charles grabs a tall cup and starts,

"We serve about 25 different drinks here but you only need to learn the top 5 and go from there. This is the expresso machine. You make it single-shot or double shot, adding different things depending on the customer. Pull this here, fill it to here, and add a splash of this- now for an iced coffee you use this machine. Fill this cup with ice first then press this, then these buttons. The whip cream is here and hold it like thi-"

Charles runs through machines, cups, and steps before I can process what just happened. The order of buttons- even the type of Muggle drink being made- flies over my head and out of reach like a cursed snitch. Overwhelmed, panic wells inside of me as I try to memorize this strange dance of machinery and caffeine.

Finally, he sets the last cup down and turns to me, "Did you get that?"

I shake my head yes, blinking away the unwelcome pressure in my eyes. Charles looks down at me, clearly pissed off.

"Alright then. You can handle the next customer just fine, I imagine. I'll be in the breakroom if you need anything." He stomps away.

I don't move from my spot, the internal panic roaring anew and I know for certain that I _do_ not _want this job_. What was I thinking that a Muggle job would be easy? My Malfoy decorum could get me nowhere in this environment full of strange machines and rude nephews.

I was the Great Squid if it had been dumped in the Forbidden Forest; out of my element and helpless.

The door chimes and a large gaggle of young Muggles comes in, loud laughs echoing.

I rush over to the counter and the strange machine there, trying to smile at a twenty something year old man. The rest of the flock break off and find seats, leaving the man to order.

"Hello, what would you like today?" I ask, mimicking Charles. The man looks away from the menu and glances at my chest, "I'll have a, uh, Annabeth?"

I stare at him in confusion, "I...I don't think we serve that?"

He laughs, "No, you're name tag."

I stare down at the apron and the name tag I had failed to notice, turning red.

"I'll have a Double Shot Cappuccino, Iced Vanilla Latte-" He rattles off three other orders with ease and I struggle to catch them all. My smile is strained as I turn back to the wall of machinery.

Alright. I start on the easiest, a plain black coffee with two sugars.

Carefully, I fill the order, cap it, and set it on the tray. My confidence gaining, I grab another cup and face a more complicated machine, painstakingly pressing buttons.

The machine makes an angry, steam-filled noise. I find the correct lever and pull hard, hot liquid jetting out and- knocking the cup over. Hot liquid splashes all over my stomach and I yell, jumping away as the machine still shoots liquid out. The Muggle swears loudly behind me, "Need help, mate?"

"No!" I shout, pulling the scorching apron away from my skin, trying to untie the tight knot behind my back and failing. The coffee puddles on the floor quickly and I panic, shooting out a hand to slam the lever back up.

It doesn't budge.

"OH MY LO- DRACO!" I look up to see Tammy running over, and it's like a time spell was cast as she slips over the coffee on the floor and crashes into me.

The back of my head slams on the counter before I fall to the ground, Tammy sprawled on top of me. I yelp, shoving her off, the coffee on the floor burning my back. She scrambles up and reaches for the lever as a loud as the machine starts a loud beeping. It doesn't give, so she bangs her palm into the side of the machine and it sputters.

The second time she tries the lever, it releases and I breath a deep breath from where I'm propping myself up on the counter and rubbing my head.

"What happened?"

It's Charles, looking on in shock.

Tammy turns colors, pink to red to a violent purple, and she raises a finger at him, "WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING LEAVING HIM ALO-"

"What!" Charles exclaims, "I didn't do anything!"

"YOU IDIOT, JUST BECAUSE ANNIE WOULDN'T PUT UP YOU, YOU GIANT _TIT_ -"

"Don't say her name!" Charles shouts and I peel myself off the counter, quietly extracting myself from the scene. Once i've scooted by unnoticed I make a break for the door. I pass the flock of young Muggles laughing on the sidewalk and continue running. Hot coffee feels like fiend fire lapping at my skin, melting and burning away my scars, on the back of a broom and the feeling of being desperate and saved but still scared.

My eyes sting with unshed tears, my heart beating at my ribs, hands shaking and nerves shredded. Needing a calm voice to sooth my leaping insides.

_I've survived a war, yet I cannot survive a muggle coffee shop._

A pathetic sniffle escapes me and I grab my wand from my forearm holster and Apparate to Grimmauld Place.

"It's a miracle I didn't get spliced", I note hollowly, my voice frail. The old houses shift and warp to allow room for the magical residence, it's foreboding exterior warmed by a welcoming foot map.

I hurry up to the door, wanting to hold Tasha, to curl up and let her gentle hissing calm me like she had done so many times in the past. Always at my side, distracting me from the screams echoing through the Manor, cheering my spirits and making me continue on. Calming like a rumbly voice and warm hands.

I beat the door with the knocker until my arm is tired and I feel ice forming on my soaked clothes. My desperation turns to anger. And without thought, I fling a stinging hex at the door. Seeing my magic be absorbed by the wards, I huff a cold breath and send a jelly legs, followed by a bat bogey . The door absorbs the childish magic with an angry red ripple.

The door cracks open and I ignore Harry's voice, waiting for it to open all the way.

Potter eyes are as round as his glasses, hair messy and kissing his brow bone. Paint is smudged all over his arms, the light blue a beautiful contrast against his rich skin.

My mind flashes back to the shower fantasy, his hands on my pale hips that my traitor brain created.

All the manners ingrained in me since birth leave me as I shove past him with a scowl, looking for Tasha.

I hear him close the door and call out my name, my first name. I stop mid-step and look up at him, briefly shocked out of my mood, my face surely contorting, "Did you just call me _Draco_?"

I've lost my bloody mind.

He gives me a sheepish smile and my heart physically hurts. _Damn you and you're ridiculously charming glasses, Harry Potter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Draco's first job interview...was a surprise. Everything that could go wrong did lolol. Next chapter will have a whole lot more Draco/Harry dialogue and don't forget Tasha...
> 
> For my fellow Americans! Tasha's length is 3 feet, or a yard, but I wanted to make it more authentic to the British setting. She's been with Draco since 5th yr so she's around 3 years old. Same age as my cat 0-0


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! This fic is going so fast, I swear.

FOUR

Harry

Draco's clothes are soaked in what I'm guessing is coffee since the logo on his apron says, 'Java Bean'. He's standing moodily in the kitchen and I'm not sure whether to laugh or prepare a shield charm.

I cast a Scourgify on his soaked clothes, and ask cautiously, "Draco, what happened?"

He shakes his head, crossing his arms and snaps with a glare, "Don't spell me, _Potter_. Where's Tasha?"

"Come to the living room and I'll go get her," I offer and he agrees stiffly, combing his untidy hair with his fingers to smooth it.

He follows me into the living room and immediately spots the terrarium, "Did you have trouble setting it up? What about the daytime bulb?"

Draco rushes over to inspect it and seems to deflate seeing she's not there. I took a trip down to Luna's new shop in Olivander's old building the day after Draco dropped her off.

"I got a new bulb from Luna's the other day. I'll go get Tasha, she's up in my room." I hold up my paint splattered arms, "I've been working on the master bath."

He bites his lips, "Alright, Potter."

I jog up the stairs and enter my bedroom, the thick carpet masking my heavy footsteps. Tasha's completely buried up to her nose, silently sleeping in my old jersey. I smile at her cuteness.

Kneeling at eye level, I call lightly, "Tasha. Hey, Tasha wake up." I peel the Gryffindor red and gold jersey back from her face and she sleepily lifts her head.

Her eyes shoot open and an excited hiss leaves her as she scents the air with her forked tongue, " _Ha- Oh! Draco! Pale hair back_!"

I laugh out loud at her picking up his scent so quickly. I scoop her up and she wiggles like a happy puppy in my arms.

" _Come on, let's go see him_!"

When Draco sees Tasha his scowl melts into a stunning smile and he rushes over to take the almost uncontrollable snake from me. She happily winds around his neck and face, hissing happy sounds right into his ear. He throws his head back and lets out a snorting laugh.

I find a seat on the couch and watch the reunion, not being able to help my smile at watching Draco being so drastically different than...Draco. He actually looks 18 for once, with his usual solemn face and blank grey eyes out of sight and replaced by joy. I've seen him laugh before. His face pinched and expression cold, backed by Slytherins with matching expressions of cruel appreciation.

That was nothing like this. His eyes were crinkled and nose wrinkling as he complains about her tickling him.

There was _something_ utterly different about him.

Draco finally calms Tasha down and sits in a comfortable chair instead of the other side of the couch. He doesn't look up from Tasha's shining white scales holding him in a death grip. "Thank you, Potter." He says softly.

"I like having her here. The only other people that stop by are Ron and Hermione, so it's nice to have the company. I was actually thinking of getting a kneazle or maybe another owl."

Draco smiles into his lap, "That's nice. She seems very...happy."

His knees were bouncing up and down slightly, obviously uncomfortable. I glance to the coffee table groaning under the weight of magazines and new paint/carpet/tile samples. The shipment of bathroom tile sits in a mound of straining boxes by the fireplace.

"Er...sorry for the mess." I apologize, cheeks heating.

He shakes his head hard and his hair, longer than I had ever seen it, untucks from his ears and frames his face. "My new flat is a nightmare compared to this."

"So you found an apartment? Where?"

Draco grimaces.

"It's a Muggle flat a ways away from here. There's no floo network so I Apparate."

He seems embarrassed, flushing red the longer he sits. A Malfoy in a Muggle apartment? Ron will be shocked.

"I actually went for a job interview earlier and it went pretty horribly. I apologize for my ill manners towards you this time and last." He says this stiffly, language stilted and proper. I want to shake him back into his laughing self.

I shrug off the strange desire and sit back, "Don't apologize. You had reason both times and you did leave Tasha with me which more than makes up for it."

Draco sits up straighter, if possible, "I finished my research and know about what a snake like her costs. Are...are you sure you want to rent her? You could just get another animal like you said."

I look at him a second, then press a hand over my mouth to stop a laugh from bursting out. "Are you even _a Slytherin_?" I ask with a smile.

He glares at me but it holds no weight, "Oh hush! It's just I know what you're doing and you've already done too much as is. I'll never be able to pay back my life debt to you, much less anything else. You saved the bloody _world_ , Potter. When will you stop it and just be selfish!"

"I can't." I say and this time it's my turn to blush uncomfortably.

Draco looks at me with fire in his grey eyes, but it didn't burn like anger, but passion. "What do you mean you can't? Why aren't you like everyone else? Why do you have to be so _good_?"

I shrug awkwardly and push my glasses back up from where they've slipped. "It's the right thing I suppose. And a bit of a habit."

Draco groans, jostling Tasha who's draped over him like a content kneazle.

"Nobody will even care if you trip up. You could do any number of horrible acts and you'd still be the Savior."

I realize what he's not speaking about and cut in softly, "And no matter what you'll always be a Death Eater."

This hits him like a Stupefy and tears immediately well in his eyes. Tasha jolts and goes to investigate his shifted mood.

"Shut up, Potter." He sniffs and grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes.

His tears make something inside me drop and I lean forward, reaching out a hand to catch one of his, "I just mean, does it really matter what the press thinks? They'll say what they want, but your actions _do_ matter. I can already tell there's a difference in you, Draco, and soon the people that matter will too."

He stops trying to wipe away his tears and stares glumly at our joined hands, "I hate you, Potter."

I squeeze his hand, then notice the red skin there, as if it was recently scalded. He yanks his hand from mine and tucks it underneath his thighs, "I'm learning how to cook."

I nod and stand up, "Do you want something to eat for lunch? I can't promise I'm any better than you, but I know the basics."

He shakes his head and stands as well. The apron he was wearing still had some stains despite my earlier cleaning spell. There's a name tag that reads, "Annabeth."

"What's with the name tag?"

He glances down and takes out his wand to spell away the apron, leaving him in a rumbled button down and creased slacks.

"I don't want to talk about it," Draco grumbles, trying to smooth his clothes down. Tasha is settled over his shoulders, her head hanging down his back, and she lifts her head to hiss at me.

" _Pale hair unhappy. Why sad? I happy_."

" _It's not you, he's just moody._ " I hiss back and Draco shoots me an untrusting look.

"What are you talking about?"

I bite back a grin, "Just about how moody you are."

"Oh shut up, Potter. I'm not _moody_. If you must know, I had the single worst interview known to man. My coworker hated me at first sight, I broke a machine, and the manager slipped and barreled into me in the resulting puddle. I've had a headache ever since."

My eyebrows shoot upwards, "Really? What was the job?"

He puffs out his thin chest, "A Muggle coffee shop. I figured it would be the best shot as it's only a short walk from my flat."

"Ah. When's your next interview then?" I ask and his pale cheeks blush pink.

"I don't have another lined up at the moment. I'll probably try the next closest shop."

I look at him for a long second and he focuses his attention to Tasha who preens, "Do you have a Muggle bus pass? Or a card for the Tube?"

His pointy nose wrinkles, "Is the tube like the floo? And no, I don't have a bus pass. Only Muggles are offered one."

I laugh out loud. "Draco, you can get a bus pass and you won't have to Apparate anywhere. And the tube is an underground train. Similar to the Hogwarts Express but underground."

His face falls slack with wonder, "How is that even possible? You're telling me there's a train under us?"

"No, but in some sections of the city there is. Lots of people take it because it's faster than a bus."

His eyes are still wide, brain obviously processing this information. "Alright, I'll look into this Muggle tube train. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, tell me the rent price."

"Fine then. 100 galleons a week, 400 a month. Her species is even rarer than I thought and Father got her as payment for a favor so I was unaware of the exact price."

That's definitely more than I thought. My Gringott's balance could take the hit though, after the war I received more misguided 'donations' then I could ever spend. Hermione has been helping me sort out causes to fund and businesses to invest in to help build Diagon Alley back to what it was.

"Alright. Do you want weekly rent or monthly?"

"Um...weekly. I'll come over and see Tasha for a bit." Draco says, uncertain. 

"That'd be great." I assure him and summon a bank note and pen, scribbling the amount and my signature.

Draco is stroking Tasha's scales, unlooping her from his neck as she hisses unhappily. He takes her over to her tank and sets her down in the large terrarium gently.

" _No, mine._ " I can make out Tasha say.

"It's alright, I'll be back," Draco promises her and despite the language barrier she settles somewhat. He turns back to me and I offer him the cheque, which he grudgingly accepts and offers me his hand.

My hand engulfs his, the shake a bit clumsy as he's left handed and I have to switch to my left clumsily so we match.

"Alright, I'll be back here next week, same day unless something happens." He breaks the shake off and gives me a tight-lipped smile.

"Tasha will be waiting." I try to joke.

His expression turns pained and he slips his wand from his forearm harness underneath his sleeve. Bowing his head goodbye, he Apparates away.

The only person that can Apparate inside this house is the Lord, which is me since I inherited the title. It seems Draco can defy the wards because of his blood connection to the ancient house.

I suppose Draco would be the rightful heir so it makes sense.

I sigh and plonk down onto the sofa, hands scrubbing down my face and my 5 o'clock shadow scratches my palms.

The years long tension with Draco hadn't disappeared yet. He was obviously uncomfortable, from his polite manners to his ram rod straight back. The power balance was fucked.

I wanted his insults back. His mocking jokes and defiant stares, when he still thought he was a prince and ruling by divine right.

But that wasn't quite right either. I wanted his serene smile when he held Tasha and his snorting laugh.

I wanted to know what was so vastly different about him, why I couldn't ignore him, why he wouldn't leave my brain.

Distracted, I shrug on the brown leather coat thrown over the couch arm and grab a pinch of floo powder from the bowl.

The flames flare green and I step in with the directions, "The Leaky Cauldron."

_I just want to shake Draco and make sure he's okay._

I pop out in the Leaky and it's dead, being midday on a Thursday. I order a butterbeer from the bartender to distract myself from thoughts of Draco.

_I just want to wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze the life out of him_.

I take a drink of my butterbeer and let my head _thunk_ against the scarred wood of the counter.

I've got a problem. Sixth year all over again.

You'd think I would've grown out of my Draco Malfoy obsession.

But it's worse than ever and I don't know what to do.

I groan and lift my head, taking a final swig, I get up and pay the barkeep for the drink, then exit onto Diagon and go about the task of distracting myself.

* * *

Draco

I'm done for. Utterly done for.

I kick off my shoes and pick them up just to send them flying across the largely empty room. The expensive dress shoes bounce a few times like well thrown skipping rocks, though that does nothing to lift my spirits.

I drag myself to my bed and fall on top of the mound of blankets, burying my head until I can't breathe.

Good.

Potter is- _he's so_ good. And rational and handsome. I envy him, the half-blooded hero of the wizarding world, savior of all mankind.

I _want_ him. Despite how totally wrong it is of me. I don't deserve him. Or his misplaced kindness. I'm a wreck, a ruined boy with no family or prospects.

He's a _man_ with the whole worlds respect, _Merlin-be-damned_ , he's worthy of _everything_.

I sit up and take a deep gasp of air, pulling the cheque from my pants and spelling it over to the rickety table before I get the urge to shred it because I don't _deserve_ his money.

I unbutton my wrinkled shirt and tear it off, tossing it across the room and unstrap the leather wand holster encasing my left arm.

I set it aside on the bed and stare at the glaring snake upon my arm, physical proof of my unworthiness. The ink still moves within my skin, wavering and glaring back at me with buried memories like ice water soaking my clothes.

I trail my shaking right hand over the brand, teeth grinding not from pain, but lack of sensation. My fingertips registered the feel of flesh, yet I feel nothing in my arm where the tattoo lies.

I cover it up with my hand and fall heavily onto my back.

I've got to begin looking for another job tomorrow, get one of those tube cards for the underground train.

And I need to deposit Potter's check into my painfully small account so I can transfer it into muggle money.

The list drags on and on and I fall asleep on my back in the middle of an already cursed day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I have to say is that the next chapter you guys are going to love and it's not even what you're thinking lol.
> 
> Also, I don't think this will be a 10 chapter fic but more of a 15 or so. Not super long, but not short either.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Bookmark, kudos, and comment plz.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! It takes longer to edit than to write ;-;

FIVE

Harry

I arrive home at ten p.m., worn out and my feet aching. I toe off my boots and toss my jacket back onto the arm of the couch. I check in on Tasha who sleeps curled up on top of a rock and switch to her darker, nighttime bulb.

The yawn I make climbing the stairs pops my jaw loudly and makes my eyes water.

I don't bother to manually brush my teeth but cast a cleaning charm instead, the residue magic tasting like a spicy mint. I strip off my shirt and toss it in the wicker laundry basket in the corner of my room.

I fall onto my duvet and take off my glasses, resting them on the nightstand. My old Quidditch jersey is still on my bed, so I set it aside to put in Tasha's terrarium tomorrow.

After leaving the Leaky I dropped by Luna's, then the Daily Profit to make sure Skeeter isn't up to her old tricks, which thankfully she wasn't. George's store was next and I helped Ron sort out a box of living love letters (They were god awful. Kept nattering on about handsome boys and squealing.)

Dean and Seamus dropped into the store a few hours later and I went from there to a new wizarding bar that opened up, this one not kid friendly unlike the Leaky.

Charmed instruments played in the corner and lights danced and darted around the room. It was brilliant.

We sat in a circular booth next to the empty stage and caught up as it was about a month when we saw each other.

Dean and Seamus just bought a house to live in together and when I asked how they were getting on, Dean got a suspicious look about him. They've been dating ever since the end of the war, which forged their bond instead of tearing them apart like it did Ginny and I.

We joked around maybe an hour before the topic of Slytherin's, in particular Draco, were brought up.

"I saw Pansy Parkinson yesterday at the Ministry," Dean said, "She was just released from her house arrest I heard."

Seamus nodded, "Didn't she try to had you over to You-Know-Who, Harry? During the battle?"

I nodded, dragging my chips through ketchup and popping it into my mouth. The food here was good considering the place had just opened the week before. I was on my second plate of chips and thinking of ordering another sandwich.

"I think some of the Death Eaters got off light. Lucius Malfoy didn't even go to Azkaban. He's in France under 'house arrest' at his vacation mansion." Dean thumps his fist against the table.

I look up from my chips and wince at Dean's expression. Seamus takes Dean's hand and nudges his shoulder.

"His magic was extracted, remember? I hear that's as bad as getting the Kiss, except you live." I stated evenly and Seamus nods in agreeance.

"Hey, has anyone heard anything about Malfoy?" Dean asked with a laugh.

I scratched the back of my neck, "Uh, he's doing well actually."

Dean's eyes grew large, "Seriously? He dropped off the face of the earth after Malfoy Manner was confiscated. Is he under house arrest as well?"

I shake my head, pushing my now unappetizing chips away, "He just got a new apartment and I saw him for a bit earlier. He's not the same Malfoy we knew."

"He's gotta be a posh twat still, come on."

"He actually isn't, not really. He's still Draco, but just not as prejudiced.”

Dean looks at me as if I've lost my mind. Seamus elbows him harshly and sends him a pointed, stone faced glare.

"Aleister Crowley, alright. I'm... _glad_ you feel that way Harry. Now, how about another butterbeer?"

I scrub my hands down my face and allow my arms to flop down so I'm eagle spread on my king size bed. I wanted a queen but Hermione thought it was ridiculous to have a queen in the master bedroom.

She also alluded to there being more room for _visitors_. The look she sent me was enough to send shudders down my spine.

I have not. Had any visitors, that is. I've been busy with renovations, investing, and it's only been a year after the war. Many students, like Dean and Seamus, paired off immediately, and some are already starting families. Hell, even Hermione and Ron moved in together.

As settled as my life has become over the months, I can't imagine having a child as many others are. And I do want children, enough to fill a house the size of Grimmauld and a table the size of the Weasley’s. I'm just not in a mad rush like some.

Not that the mad urge to rush into partnership didn't hit me. A month after the war, wounds were just beginning to heal and Ginny and I held onto each other like we would die otherwise. When we lost our virginities, I realized that I wasn't attracted to her like a lover, but as a close friend. She's a sister to me.

I broke it off and even though she could see the way we desperately clung to each other wasn't healthy, she was still hurt. I haven't seen her since she moved to Romania to live with Charlie.

I receive mail proclaiming affections and disturbing marriage proposals daily. My stomach turns at the thought of _actually_ dating when my name is spoken like a blessing.

The only people that still seem real are my Gryffindor friends from before the war and a small spattering of people like McGonagall or Luna. Everyone else focuses on my name and it's not like I can date my friends, who I view as family.

The thought of entering a relationship, _having a family_ , with a starstruck 'fan' makes me sit up on my bed, instantly uncomfortable.

I ungracefully kick out of my jeans and leave them in a puddle beside the bed. Now in just my pants, I slip underneath the dark covers.

Imagining someone beside me, waking up in the morning next to, and spending the day with always makes a warm feeling unfurl in my chest. Tangling my limbs with another pair in sleep, holding someone close, my arms wrapped around their stomach.

I can imagine another's voice say my name in an admonishing way, playful smiles and inside jokes passed around over breakfast. Brushing my teeth at night as another finishes up a shower.

They would step out of the glass stall with a loosely wrapped towel and fight me for mirror room. Carefully spelling their hair dry, they would slip into one of my larger shirts for bed which would come down to their pale thighs. I would finish up my teeth and catch them around their waist. Tugging their back into my chest and pressing a kiss to their neck and they laugh and push me away.

I would fake offense and when they turn to me I would steal a kiss from their pink lips and haul them up into my arms, moving into the bedroom to dump them onto the bed.

I breath loudly against the pillow, my pants tightening with the swelling of my cock, and I roll my eyes at myself. I reach a hand down and rub my palm over the bulge, clenching the pillow in my other hand.

_I would climb over top them and press a smiling kiss to their mouth, their arms looping around my neck and legs falling open to make room for me to kneel._

_They would laugh at me, looking into my eyes through their eyelashes, face mischievous. Hands crawling around my shoulders and rubbing down my chest._

_I would bite their sharp collarbone exposed by the loose neck of the shirt and my hands would reach for their legs to loop around me. Wearing nothing but the shirt, they would be exposed and looking up at me with a growing, desperate fire in their hooded eyes._

My hand slips into my boxers and wraps around my fully hard length, thumb rubbing the damp head.

_I would tease them until they ask me to touch them and I would then reach down and their prick would fit nicely in my hand, already hard. The wanting sound that slips out of his mouth is cut short by my lips against his, tongue pressing in to grind slowly._

_His legs are tight around me, hips thrusting upwards in time with my hand and his fingers are digging into my back._

_"Harry- please-" He pants loudly against my mouth, beautiful eyes glazed over and fluffy blonde hair starting to stick to his temples with sweat._

My hand is too dry against my cock so I spit into it and continue, rolling onto my back and pulling my pants down some to free my hand. 

_I loosen his legs and move down, his hands finding my hair as I take his red, leaking prink into my mouth. It's small, just reaching my throat, and I massage it with my tongue, sucking lightly and pulling back. His hand twists in my hair, legs parted wide and shaking, and tentatively he begins thrusting upwards._

_His small prick moving in my mouth and my name a loud moan on his lips, I palm myself roughly and with the other hand find his arsehole and rub it and, "Draco,"-_

My vision blacks out, tension exploding into relief as my hand struggles to keep up and I’m unaware of anything but the pleasure flooding my body.

I eventually still and stare blankly up at the high ceiling for a moment, before I haul myself up. I look dazedly at my cum on the clean sheets then spell it away wandlessly and fall back to the pillows.

I...I just wanked to a fantasy of a boy, of _Draco Malfoy_. A part of me feels like I need a shower, but the rest of me aches.

As real as that felt, it wasn't real. I could never date Draco, he is a _Malfoy_. He certainly isn't gay.

_Am I_?

It wasn't _not_ possible per say. I didn't enjoy sex with Ginny and had never been able to...imagine sex with any girl like I had just done.

I'm not against gays. Dean and Seamus are gay. Or, well, Dean is bisexual and Seamus is gay.

Maybe I’m bisexual as well? Because I do think women are pretty. Hermione and Luna are very pretty but I would never date either of them for obvious reasons. Same reason I wasn't attracted to Ginny.

My mind continues racing for who knows how long, all thoughts of sleep gone.

* * *

Draco

I end up buying both a tube and a bus pass despite my hesitancy towards the bus. You hear all sorts of stories about the Wizarding Night Bus; I was nervous about what I might encounter and the safety of a Muggle run bus. The great lumbering machines looked docile going down the road and the people waiting on benches and exiting the machines looked calm enough.

I wait beside a bus bench, card in hand, for the bus to arrive at 7:45 pm precisely. The bus stop was only a block away from my flat, a five-minute walk if I took my time, and figuring in the slow-moving bus, I should arrive on time for my 8:30 job interview.

I found the job after a curiosity search through a Muggle newspaper. I was perplexed by the unmoving images and then got wrapped up in a confusing article about a player in something called 'football' which I assumed was the Muggle version of Quidditch. It sounded quite boring, frankly, but the player in the picture was very handsome even if he was as still as a corpse.

The muggle paper had a section where they gave out jobs as well. Most of the listing asked for a telephone call, which was a box Muggles got into and used a machine to talk. I couldn't quite figure out to make the machine work or where to enter the listed numbers.

I found two businesses that asked for you to come to their shops. One was a family owned corner shop and the other in a different section requesting a 'stripper'.

Remembering the family owned coffee shop, I quickly decided on the other job. It couldn't be that hard to strip beds, dust, and mop. There was no machinery involved so I should do well.

Thinking of the sometimes messy duties of house elves, I decided to not wear a button down but a somewhat shabby dress robe that used to be beautiful. The fabric had lost some of its sheen and the crystals that used to swirl down the dark sleeves have mostly fallen off.

I didn't mind it getting messy and though it still looked proper enough for a Muggle job.

I look around at the full bus bench and then cast a discrete _Tempus,_ which read 7:49. The sun had mostly set, making everything dusky but not dark.

I turn to the elderly Muggle woman sitting on the bench, "Is the bus usually this tardy?"

"Oh, yes. It should only be a few minutes more. Where are you in a rush to get?"

"Um, I have a job interview." I say, hyperaware of my words and the Statute of Secrecy. A violation is the last thing I need.

"That's nice, dear. What job interview's this late on a Saturday?"

"I'm going to try to be a stripper. I've never had a cleaning job before, but I’m hoping I qualify."

The lady's eyes go wide and she repeats slowly, "Well, that's nice dear."

She gets up and moves away from me, sitting down at the other end of the bench. How rude. Though not incomparable to how I would act when faced with the unprivileged.

Three minutes later the bus rumbles up and stops. People line up to file on and I get my bus card and address ready.

When it's my turn to pay with my card, I show the address to the bus operator.

"What'm I 'sposed to do with that?" He laughs and his voice seems to boom off the metal walls.

I take a step back, alarmed. "This is where I need to go?"

The middle aged, semi-bearded man chortles to himself, then takes a cup and spits a wad of brown gunk from his mouth. A shiver makes the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. Is the muggle man _dying_? Surely this can't be normal.

"'ve you never rode a bus 'fore, lad? That's not how these things work." He snorts and jabs a meaty finger to the seat right behind him, "Sit there."

I find a seat and the rest of the people swipe their cards, filing down the aisle. The bus doors slam closed and the large machine roars before pulling onto the road.

"Just move to London?" The bus driver asks, stuffing his mouth with something from a flat tin.

"Um-yes. I just rented a flat." I say. Technically, I am a new citizen of Muggle London.

"Ah. First time rider I assume. Give me your address," He reaches a hand back and I deposit the sheet of paper there.

The bus seat is unpleasant, sticking against my robes and the window is cracked halfway, letting cold twilight air flood inside.

The driver has the address pressed flat against the turning wheel and a queasy feeling fills me at the sight of his lone hand holding the wheel. Machines are zipping by and lit signs fill the road like candy jars in Honeydukes.

"Ah, so you're headed to the op'site side of town. You'll have to take a few buses to get there. Taking a cab would be faster but'll cost an arm and a leg. "

_An arm and a leg_? I would rather just Apparate, thanks.

"Uh. Thank you, sir. Just drop me off as soon as you can, please?"

"Alright," He replies and spitting into his cup once more, he returns my address parchment to me.

I focus out the rattling window and watch Muggle London pass by. It was...rather impressive considering they have no magic. The machines flashed brightly and some sort of excitement buzzed in the air. Pedestrians walk quickly, some talking to each other, some speaking into boxes held to their ears.

_If only Potter could see me now_ , I think, _a Malfoy on a public bus_!

How different would this view be if the war ended any other way? The Dark Lord was full of hatred for the Muggles, far greater than any varying level of resentment the pure bloods held. He wanted to rule over the Muggles, not simply be separate from them.

I hold no hatred, I don't believe I ever truly did, but the thought of Wizards and Muggles mixing? The Muggles were just so...loud. And overwhelming and so, so many of them. They would overpower Wizards despite all our magic. It is not Wizard business to meddle with Muggles.

When I cast another _Tempus_ , I start to worry I won't make it in time, even if I Apparate. There is no telling how close I will land if I Apparate as my location spell is old and inexact. I'll have to buy a map, find the location, and hope for the best.

Also, there's the chance of Apparating in a non-secluded spot since I don't know the area.

As the minutes tick by, the pressure inside me increases until I'm fuming at myself. _Why does nothing seem to go right_?

This is supposed to be simple. Straight forward. Not 'showing the ropes' and a _bloody stupid_ transportation system. Why can't finding a job just be simple? Am I going about it wrong?

I should have taken the Tube. I should have gone with the corner shop job. Or looked somewhere else that was decently close by.

I rest my head against the grubby window just in time for the rumbling bus to screech to a halt. I brace myself against the driver’s seat back, then shoot to my feet and towards the exit.

"Hey!"

I freeze, foot stopped before I reached the ground. The bus operator spits in his bloody _disgusting_ cup and says, "Ya forgot to pay."

I fumble with my card and the people waiting to exit the death machine radiate annoyance. Once the fee is paid, I practically run from the bus and to a shop to buy a map.

I find an alleyway between shops and ignoring the stench radiating from large trash box's, I spread the map over the damp concrete, the shadows cast by the building almost black. The sound of machines rumbling down the road seems to multiply in the alley.

Wand in hand, I kneel down, cast _Lumos_ , then painstakingly find about where the address is on the map. I stab my wand there.

The spell is one I found in the Manor's library before it was confiscated, before I received my trial and couldn't leave that blood-stained place. Not wanting to see my family, I locked myself in the library with only my favorite house elf for company until the Ministry recovered enough for a trial.

" _Locatorium Imagion_!"

Instantly, I can see cars, a fence, and a street lined with houses. They seem boringly calm, larger than my current residence though nowhere near the splendor the Manor used to be. Wind ruffles my ear length hair and a crup yips far off.

I return to the alley, my Lumos still glowing brightly. My consciousness re-centers with a feeling like a feather falling on a windless day.

I cast _Finite_ , gather my map, and Apparate.

The side walk I land on is, Morgona blessed, deserted. The crup is still barking far off and the houses are all lit up but motionless.

I fish the address from a pocket inside the robe and begin the trial of deciphering the muggle address system.

_All this just to become a house elf_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Draco's going to receive a shock! He's naive. And Harry is realizing his growing feelings :) At least he's not in denial but he's in a tough situation.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Kudos, comment and bookmark plz


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! This took longer than I would have liked, but I had to decide where I wanted the plot to go :)

SIX

Draco

It's a... house.

Cars line the street and a small group of laughing men stand on the front sidewalk. They look to be late twenties to thirties, standing in a drunken circle and holding glasses piss colored liquor.

I straighten my robes and walk over to the tall, loud men.

"Hello, is this address correct?" I hold up the sheet of paper which one man takes.

"Yeah, why're you asking?"

I accept the sheet of parchment back and ignore the height of the man looming overhead. Eyebrow raised, I attempt to exert my confidence as I tuck the paper into my pocket.

"I came for a job interview. _Surely_ this can't be the place."

"Guess not. It's our mate’s bachelor party and we're havin' a bit of fun."

The other obnoxious men cheer, one pumping his fist and shouting, "Fuggin' strippers!"

I stare at the inebriated man for a long moment, then turn to the previous man, "So this _is_ the right place?"

It made sense why they would hire a cleaner for a party, so the groom to be wouldn't have to clean up afterwards.

The tall man startles, "Oh! You're here for that? Uh, Kevin doesn't swing that way..."

"So, you _don't_ employ male cleaners?" I snap, fed up. The man blinks rather stupidly, then simply shakes his head. He looks at me with dull brown eyes

"I thought you meant you were here as a stripper? I'm so sorry, mate."

"I _am_ here to strip. Why don't you employ male cleaners?"

The man looks to his friends who go still before bursting into laughter, alcohol sloshing everywhere as they grab each other for support.

"Wha'd you think strippin' means?"

Another round of laughter persists and my fingers dig deeply into the flesh of my palms. Heat rises to my head until I feel like a steaming kettle because _I don't get it_.

" _Hey Ralph_ , waddya think he's got under those funny clothes?"

" _Take 'em off_!"

The original man yells at his friends, "Shut up! How old does he look to you?"

I itch to grab my wand and spell their balls off from the sheer mortification. They think I’m a _two-sickle trollop_. I should hex their guts and send a _Bombarda_ up their arseholes!

I turn and kick the closest leg in reach, " _Shut up, you bloody wanker_!"

Pushing down the violent desire to grab my wand, I spin and stalk off down the sidewalk from where I came. The cold air does nothing to cool my scorching cheeks, aflame with a toxic mix of anger and embarrassment.

_I am such an idiot_.

I step off the sidewalk and storm across the street, wanting to find a secluded place to Apparate as soon as possible. To reach my apartment and find something to hex.

A strong wind hits me and my hair plasters itself to the side of my face and eyes. I scrape the annoying strands away and bright yellow light floods my vision.

I turn just in time to see the glossy paint of a Muggle vehicle baring down on me.

\-----

Harry

Saturdays are always lazy days around Grimmauld. Tools lay abandoned and the telly in what used to be the formal sitting room plays movies on the new vr. I've been putting off taking a shower and getting ready to portkey to speak to a _Niffler_ breeder with Luna.

The couch is old, ugly, and completely covered in blankets which Tasha has made a game of slithering through. The movie _Gremlins_ is playing and I'm only half paying attention as Tasha keeps nudging and nipping at my feet underneath the blanket.

" _Tasha, that tickles_!" I laugh, reaching under the blanket, I find a section of her body and haul her out. She happily winds herself around my neck and sticks her tapered snout into my ear.

I duck my head, glasses knocking sideways, and Tasha turns to stone. Her muscled body clenches around my shoulders and arm, her head hovering, unmoving.

"Tasha?" I ask, reaching up to bump her. She doesn't react, eyes are fixed far off.

" _Tasha_ ," I say again, this time in Parseltongue and give her a shake. She doesn't react still.

I hold her tight to me and throw the covers off my lap, jumping off the couch. I pan around the room for shoes, but not seeing a pair I Apparate straight to the front of Luna's shop.

Only in my socks and joggers I hurry inside the old wandmaker's shop. Front windows are now full of brilliantly colored birds and ‘ _Ollivanders’_ has been replaced by _Luna’s_ in a bubbly font and cute creatures surrounding it. A variety of noises from a wild assortment of magical beasts fills the shop, some wrought iron cages full of pastel pygmy puffs and others completely empty. The shop is free of towering shelves and light bathes the interior.

" _Luna_?" I shout, pulling Tasha from around my neck and wrapping her seized body around my arm. Even the jostling of Apparating didn't snap her out of her fixation.

"Harry?" Her head of wild blonde curls pops up from behind a miniature rat enclosure, "Did someone steal your clothes?"

"Uh, no. Something's wrong with Tasha and I Apparated straight over." I rush over to her in my socks.

Luna cocks her head to the side at seeing Tasha and brings a hand to her smooth scales. Large dragon hide gloves are over her elbows and her clothes are mismatched Muggle and Wizard styles. She takes Tasha from me and holds her up to look consideringly at her blank face.

Luna frowns, then blows a breath on the white snake who still doesn't react.

"It looks like her mind isn't here. She's with someone else."

" _What_?" My face screws up and I realize I’ve yet to right my tilted glasses. Luna smiles serenely and holds Tasha close to her, "Her bodies here but her mind's not. Something must have come up and she with whoever she's bonded to."

"So, her mind is with Draco? Something's happened to him?"

She shrugs, "Perhaps. Your head is full of Nargles again Harry, are you feeling alright? I haven't seen cousin Draco since the Manor. He always gave me cookies and bandages, you know."

"Er, yes. I've gotta go but I'll see you later, yeah?"

She nods, transferring Tasha to me, then focuses on a small cage of shivering snow puffs, "Just keep her warm until she's back."

I stroke Tasha's scales and hold her close to my chest as I Apparate back to Grimmauld Place.

Wherever she is, I just hope Draco's alright.

Unable to return to the formerly lazy afternoon activities, I shut off the telly and settle Tasha is my old Quidditch jersey for warmth.

I hold her on the living room couch, worry gnawing at my stomach.

\-----

Draco

I'm flat on my back in the grass, head ringing and ankle throbbing.

My foggy head is filled with a high, piercing hissing that's instantly familiar.

"Tasha?"

Her presence is a comforting weight in my brain, I've felt it so many times before throughout the war while under a Crucio or when I retreated into myself as I witnessed the horrors of the Dark Lords table.

I sit up and straighten my robes to cover my legs. The Muggle vehicle is gone as if I had never seen it in the first place. Street lights have switched on in the time that I’ve lain on the ground.

Did I go unconscious? How long have I been lying here?

Tasha's companionable hissing calms me enough to stand up and pat myself down, checking my wand and pockets.

My ankle burns when I put weight on it, but otherwise I'm unharmed.

I remember clearly walking in the road, seeing the Muggle car, and then...waking up on the grass? How?

The cold breeze cuts through my robe but I barely feel it for the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I fumble with shaking hands for my wand, walking as fast as possible in the opposite direction of the road.

Tasha's hissing is a soothing background noise and her presence is a grounding weight while I find a suitable spot to sit and manage my panic.

An empty bus stop bench sits underneath the warm glow of a street lamp and old homes sleep all around. I sit, casting a warming and a small warding spell to repel any unwanted attention.

" _Tasha_?" I think and she gives a rumbling hiss as acknowledgment.

" _I've missed you._ "

As comforting as her presence in my mind is, I'd rather be holding her, utterly spoiling her in affection. Does Potter give her his affection?

I'll have to return her. The sooner the better. She's only a baby, her species living almost to three hundred years old. She doesn't have any control yet, not able to return to her body after entering my mind unless she's in close proximity and encouragement.

I really don't want to see Potter right now.

I want to wrap up in my blankets with the comforting presence of my snake and sleep for a year. I'm so tired of everything. My cold apartment, my shoddy meals, the constant struggle of living. I just want a bloody job. I want to feel the ground underneath my feet, grounded instead of free falling.

I just want to feel safe.

A small watery sound slips from my mouth and I roughly swipe the hot tears from my cheeks.

At least as a child I had _wealth_ to make up for the lack of affection. Now I have nothing. _Merlin, I deserve it too_. I've always been a scared coward and I always will be.

A deep sickening sensation has enveloped my chest and I force myself to stop crying. Disgusted at my own self-pity, I stand and break the warding spell. With notorious Malfoy mannerisms intact, I prepare myself to Apparate and get the exchange over with already.

_And then I'll be truly alone again._

\---

Harry

I decide to take a shower to pass the time until Luna shuts her shop down at nine o'clock and heads over. Maybe she'll think of something to return Tasha to her body.

_Draco didn't tell me anything about_ this, I think while I scrub shampoo into my scalp. Despite what Draco always said, I do in fact wash and comb my hair. It's simply unmanageable and I don't bother with it most of the time.

Worry eats away at my stomach like a potion gone wrong. The house seems to echo audibly without Tasha's mostly silent presence. I hurry up with my shower as Luna's coming any minute now and wrapping a fluffy towel around my waist I exit the guest bathroom just as a magical aura I easily identify as Luna flares up at the front door.

She never takes the floo, convinced it leaves a person weakened towards invisible creatures of some sort. As much as I appreciate her friendship, there are some things she'll never be able to convince me of.

I hurry down stairs to let her in and near trip when I hear my name called from the direction of the living room.

"Hello?" I tense, painfully aware I’m without my wand. Or clothes of any sort.

Light footsteps tread on the hard wood and Draco Malfoy appears.

"Oh!" He yelps and I jump, shoulder hitting the wall as I clutch the towel around my waist. His grey eyes are the size of saucers for a moment before he slaps his hands over them, " _You're naked!_ "

"No, I’m not!" I say, panicked.

"Why aren't you clothed!"

"I- uh- I was taking a shower. How'd you get in?"

"The door. I didn't think you were here!"

I remember what happened like a bolt of lightning striking me, " _Are you okay_? And Tasha?"

"I just returned her back to her body." His eyes are still covered and my face is on fire. I fold my arms over my chest.

"Is that one of her magical powers? Are you okay? Luna said- Fuck- I mean I have to go get the door. Wait here?"

Draco nods, hands still plastered over his face.

I rush down the hall and towards the front door, which I fling open to see Luna patiently waiting.

"Oh hello, Harry. Are you _sure_ your clothes haven't been stolen?"

I step aside and she floats past with a pleasant smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you thinks going to happen? And what about that shiny Muggle car? I think it's adorable seeing Draco and Harry treat Tasha like a little baby. And Luna makes every fic better in my opinion.
> 
> Completely unrelated to this fic, but I caught a bird today! It was hopping around in the Texas snow and couldn't fly away when I approached it so I scooped it up. I still can't see anything visibly wrong with it so I'm keeping it until the snow melts. There are no wildlife rescues near me and even if there was I wouldn't trust them not to just dump it outside as it's a common bird (Brown Thrasher. I researched.) Anyway it's sleeping with it's head tucked in its wing rn in a plastic tub in my room. I think this is a really great experience as I've been wanting to get a budgie for a while now and started saving up money. Hopefully Thrasher recovers and I can release it back into the open air!
> 
> Hope you liked the chapter! Kudos, bookmark, and comment plz


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I meant to post it tomorrow but why wait?

SEVEN

Draco

The image of a shirtless Harry, dripping water in a towel is just what I need burned into my memory. His rich tan skin and dark chest hair shined with drops of water like some sort of erotic painting, a study in contrasts against the pristine towel. Or potentially my hand splayed across his broad chest.

Or while I lick the water droplets off of him, greedily tracing my fingers over his prominent V muscles until they met the soft white towel.

I grind the heels of my hands into my eye sockets until I see colors, trying to rub away the filthy images flooding my mind.

Guilt rots inside me, a simmering sick guilt that floods my throat like I'm about to lose my stomach. I'm worse than the crowds of pining witches fawning over Potter, desperate to sink their claws into the Savior.

I have no right in viewing Potter that way. I've made countless bad choices, bullied him, and now he's misguidedly helping me. He doesn't deserve my twisted lust. The innocent crush of a witch is harmless in comparison.

I drop my hands, feet itching to make my escape through the Floo before Potter comes back. I shouldn't have come inside in the first place, even if the door was unlocked. Potter didn't appear to be home and the sooner Tasha was returned the easier the transfer is back into her own body. Without a consciousness, her body is vulnerable and can't function as it's supposed to.

Anything more than an hour could be harmful to her, but how can I teach differently when it's her instinct?

If only Potter really wasn't home, leaving me to quickly slip in and out so I wouldn't have seen his wonderfully tight stomach and strong shoulders free of his messy Muggle clothing, a sight that will surely haunt my dreams. And fuel more unfortunate wank sessions.

Light footsteps approach and I collect myself just in time to see Luna Lovegood followed by Potter still in his towel. Water drips down his neck from his soaked black hair and kisses his wonderful pecs.

"Oh, hello Draco." Luna says with an earnest smile. I shuffle my feet, remembering the last time I saw her. She was held in the cellar of the Manor for many weeks during the war, only spared because of her family connection to mine, being a cousin stricken from the family tree. She was stolen as bait for Potter and his friends. Just because she was spared didn't mean she was taken care of.

I tried to make her as comfortable as possible, bringing food and blankets for her and the other prisoners when I could and sending a house elf when I couldn't.

I bow slightly to her and let my smile show, "Hello, Cousin."

Potter coughs, "I'll just go get dressed, then we can go catch the Portkey?"

My face twitches with the concentration it takes to _not_ ogle Potter’s back as he retreats. He could completely cover me up if he were to lay on top of me, his sturdy weight pinning me down and strong muscles keeping me there.

Luna nods absent-mindedly and looks around at the partway stripped wallpaper, where lighter rectangular patches reveal where paintings were hung for far too long. Big strips of it have been removed and other parts have brightly colored paint swatches over top.

Luna turns to me, "Tasha's doing well, I hope?"

I focus on her, brows furrowing in confusion, "Yes, I just returned her to her body. How did you know?"

I found Tasha in her terrarium, curled up in Harry's old Quidditch jersey. The sight was more than I was prepared for, the intense desire to curl up in it alongside her was barely manageable.

"Oh Harry stopped by earlier with her and was quite distressed. I'm glad she's doing alright. How are you?"

Luna hasn't changed at all, her expression earnest and her day-dreamy words holding no motive. I'm more than happy to call her my cousin regardless of her blood purity. How I didn't find out our shared family tree before the war I have no clue, as much as I had to study my family’s history and how similar the two of us look.

It's impossible to miss our white hair and pale eyes.

"I'm doing well, thank you." I reply and Luna frowns at me.

"You don't seem alright. I haven't seen you since the Manor and now I see you here at Harry's."

"I've...been avoiding the Wizarding world after everything and don't have Floo access where I'm staying. Harry's been the only one I've been in contact with for a while and that's only because of Tasha." I admit, color surely painting my cheeks at the confession. Luna's scrutiny is never a pleasant force to be subjected to.

"I'm glad you're getting along, I don't like it when my friends fight. You know, Harry and I are going out in a minute. Perhaps you could join?" She says with a genuine smile, but I’m too caught up on the idea that hit me like a Stupefy.

What if- are Harry and Luna dating? Surely not. She called him a _friend_ after all.

I shuffle my feet nervously, "Uh, no thank you. Maybe another time? I'm tired from a...job interview." It's not a lie.

"Oh, what job? I believe Gringotts is hiring."

I bite my lip to discover it's already scabbed over, I immediately stop it and pocket my nervous hands instead. "Uh, a Muggle job actually. I found it in a newspaper."

She waits patiently and I curse my stupidity further, cheeks now on fire as I shamefully admit, "It requested a stripper and I didn't kno-"

A loud crash sounds behind me and I jump, head snapping in that direction to see Potter pick himself up off the floor and staring at me with wide green eyes.

"What's a stripper?" Luna asks, confused.

* * *

Harry

Draco...a stripper?

My feet forget to work at the mental image of Draco on a stage in revealing lace and glitter, dancing sensually to a Muggle song. Would he be my height in soaring heels?

My wank a few days ago has plagued me, constantly showing up regardless of what I'm doing and trying to distract myself is pointless. Draco stripping is the last thing I need feeding this growing bonfire of obsession.

"I thought it meant cleaning!" He shouts, staring at his shoes in mortification. I dust myself off to distract myself from the warmth at my crotch and awkwardly nod along.

"What does it mean?" Luna asks with a confused smile, tilting her head so her long curls fall over her shoulder.

Draco looks to me and I shake my head.

"Perhaps Harry can tell you? He's more familiar with Muggle things than I am."

"Er, I dunno if that’s a good idea," I say, slightly annoyed at Draco for pinning this on me. But Draco is still...Draco and my cock's still half hard.

I try to send Luna a look to drop it seeing her unhappy frown, but she drops it and instead says, "Since you know about the Muggle world why don't you teach Draco about it, Harry?"

I rub my neck, instantly imagining eating at a Muggle restaurant with Draco, taking trips to zoos and museums together. Showing him how Muggle things work.

"Uh, I have a lot going on right now with renovations and everything," I mutter, face flushing. It wouldn't be a good idea. Being around Draco so much my feelings being as they are and surely unwelcome. I couldn't take advantage like that, it wouldn't be right.

"Like what?" Luna asks, furrowing her light brows.

"He doesn't have to, Luna," Draco mumbles to the floor and I feel bad a moment before I remember my reasons. I can't pretend to be his friend when I want more, it wouldn't be healthy for me or fair to him.

Luna simply looks at me, her usually oblivious expression settled into disappointment aimed at me.

"So you don't have a job? If you want you can work with me. I have been meaning to hire someone but I've been too busy." She says to Draco.

"What do you do?" Draco asks with a hopeful look.

"I opened up a magical creature shop in Diagon. You have experience already with Tasha so I would be happy to hire you to help take care of the animals."

Draco bites his plump, pale pink lip, "I'm not sure I can accept. I've been avoiding Diagon and all things Wizard for my safety. And if won't be good for your shop’s reputation either, hiring an Ex-Death Eater."

And there, his uncertain sincerity, is the change I can't get over. If I could Legitimus inside of his head to see Draco without his rigid armor, see the full expanse of the light shining through the cracks in his damaged mask. Or even better, if Draco by some slim chance, let me see past the crumbling facade willingly.

Like the interior of Grimmauld being restored, Draco is beautiful potential. He just needs proper care and encouragement to rebuild himself in a better light. If only I could nurture him and help him be his real self.

Luna steps forward and wraps Draco in a hug, her sharp chin resting on his shoulder, heads reaching the same height.

"Don't worry about that. The only way to bring change is to challenge it, you know." She lets go and smiles brightly at the both of us, "What was the purpose of the war if all are still not equal?"

"She's right," I agree and place a hand to squeeze Draco's shoulder once, "You don't deserve to be mistreated, Draco. We won't let anything happen to you."

He looks at me, then quickly back to Luna, "Thank you."

She beams and wraps him in an enthusiastic hug, "Come by tomorrow, it's Ollivander's old building, quite hard to miss. Now we have to catch the portkey, Harry, come on."

I stumble as she drags me a few steps down the hall, glancing back at Draco who hovers awkwardly, I say, "You can stay with Tasha as long as you like, you know."

He winces, ferret nose wrinkled cutely, "Sorry for trespassing, I won't do it again."

"Oh don't worry, I liked it, I mean- I like you- just...I really don't mind, alright? Luna, hold on!" She stops tugging with all her strength, obviously peeved I'm not in such a rush.

"Harry, as nice as it is to see Draco, perhaps we can talk for longer tomorrow? He understands why, I'm sure, and Portkeys to Israel don't come by a _Jinking Javie_ , you know?"

"Alright! Fine. I'll see you tomorrow, Draco?"

Draco looks up at me and the distance between us feels to large. I can just see his pale eyelashes and the slight wear on his fancy purple robes. The delicate curve of his jaw would fit wonderfully in my hands, to tilt his aristocratic face to look up at me.

Draco bows his head slightly with a slim, bright smile, "Alright."

I grin boldly, "Brilliant."

Luna sighs softly, grabs my arm and drags me out of Grimmauld and Apparates to the Portkey site, taking me by forceful side along.

* * *

Draco

It doesn't feel right to linger at Potters residence without a reason for being there. As curious as I might be about the history held in the old walls and vacant rooms, the idea of snooping or anything close to it is distasteful.

I exit the house, footsteps lighter with the promise of tomorrow and the rest of me weighing heavy with the anxiety of yet another job interview to potentially botch.

This seems too good to be true, working in an actual Wizarding shop with someone I admire no less. There are too many variables that can go wrong to get my hopes up.

I close the front door of Grimmauld Place and search for the faint strands of the houses magic, pushing my will out I lean heavily on my blood magic. The door bolts shut with a solid _thunk_ and I Apparate off the doorstep and into the center of my apartment where I trip over my robes and bash my knees into the hard flooring.

" _Merlin’s saggy bullocks_ ," I curse and the same ankle from earlier throbs so violently that I _hear_ it.

I shrug my robe off onto the ground and root through the piled-up clothes and blankets on my bed for a warm jumper, which I slip over my head. The sleeves come down over my hands and the hem hits my mid-thighs, but I can't make myself resize it even if I look like a house elf.

It's been in my possession since my house arrest, having arrived by Howler, obviously meant as a blatant slap in the face from an unhappy middle-aged witch. The large letter H in gold against the maroon backing is impossible to miss, the message as clear as a Pureblood's heirloom crystals.

It wasn't the real thing of course, but a shoddy remake of the Weasley family tradition Harry was seen sporting on more than one occasion. The wool sometimes itched against the skin and is by far the worst quality article of clothing I own, but the knots winding my shoulders relax and my nightmares wash away when I slip it on.

The jersey I had witnessed Tasha snuggled in, I wonder what miracles it would work if I wore it. It would smell like Potter, uniquely worn from the planes of his body and soft from hundreds of washings. I would have to constantly pull the too-long sleeves up to free my hands.

I drag a hand through my hair, groaning aloud in the empty room, the sound echoing off of the bare floor and old windows.

"This is just pathetic, Malfoy," I say loudly, my last name like sandpaper to my throat.

With a sigh I kick my robes underneath the bed and toe off my shoes, limping sock-footed across the freezing floor to the bathroom. My ankle stings sharply with each step. I'll have to cast a warming charm on it or wrap it with something for stability.

That is the Muggle way of healing a minor sprain, right?

A faint sound makes me pause mid-piss, a pitchy noise not unlike water flowing through the old pipes but farther away. I finish up and button my trousers back, slipping my cold feet into my slippers I left by the shower earlier and creep out into the main room.

Nothing has changed thankfully. I open the Muggle cold cupboard and scan my dismal options. Should I have...another egg? Maybe on toast? Or maybe hold one something frozen to my ankle? Was it the heat or cold that was beneficial to sprains?

The sound cuts through the quiet again, this time a distinctive animal noise coming from the front door.

I stare at the door, slipping my wand into my palm as I creep, feeling ridiculous, towards the sound.

I crack open the battered door and poke my head out, expecting maybe one of my elusive neighbors, but instead see a pure black Kneazle waiting patiently. It slips through the crack in the door and I jump back, losing one of my slippers as I step harshly on my bad foot.

The Kneazle pads calmly to the center of the room and lays down on the floor, licking one of its shiny black paws and I hop around in pain, clutching the door knob.

"Hey, get out of here," I order, holding the door wide open and point at the creature threateningly. It pays no mind.

"I'm serious. I don't know who you belong to, but get out!"

It flicks its tail sharply, turning green eyes to look at me as it flattens it's ears.

"I don't have any food for you."

It doesn't react so I slowly close the door and skirt around the perimeter of the room, shuffling over my bed to get to the kitchen where the cold box hangs open, avoiding the threatening Kneazle.

"Don't you have a home to be at?" I call to the Kneazle. It's pitch black coat is shiny and I can't see its ribs though it's healthy. It looks young and was utterly ignoring me".

"Marvelous," I sigh reaching into the cold box to retrieve the carton of eggs. With my luck the owners will beat down my door at two o'clock in the morning.

Just what I need before tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mutual pining? Nah. And what are you guys thinking of the job with Luna? Will it work out or will Draco's bad luck get in the way? And what about that sassy cat? Stay tuned to find out! Also- Kudos, Bookmark, and comment plz!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter!

EIGHT

Draco

My whole foot is black and blue.

Sitting on the toilet seat, I try to fashion a wrap from toilet tissue and a sock, wincing every time I move my sensitive ankle. I should have taken healer classes at Hogwarts or at least paid attention to Madam Pomfrey’s seminar Fifth year. It would have come handy in the war, but I was too busy being a total twat, hatching schemes to humiliate Potter.

That year I stayed up all night to sew that Dementor costume, my fingers pricked raw and bleeding by the end of it. It was rather shoddy work but I remember being very proud, excited to get a reaction out of Potter.

I wrap a whole roll of the tissue around my ankle and foot as a firm padding before taking the sock and trying to stretch it over without shifting the tissue. Once it's on, I place my foot down and try to put weight on it with a wince. It's not terrible though, especially if I add a cushioning charm.

I take my wand and do that before standing up and facing the mirror to check my reflection. My hair is sticking up in the back and dark circles carve out hollows underneath my tired eyes. My complexion is very grey but for a patch of angry red spots on my chin.

I reach for a small glass jar and dab the spot remover on my chin, seeing them instantly vanish for me to deal with later. I spell my hair back from my face and tidy up the rebelling strands with water in substitute of my long-gone pomade. I meet my eyes a moment, seeing an unsettling expression reflected back, before glancing away.

The Kneazle is still here, laid on my pillows despite my many efforts to shoo it off. It hissed and bit at me every time I tried to pick it up to physically move it out the door. Finally, I was forced to put down a bowl of water and some overdone eggs, which it didn't touch of course. A large glass baking dish is in the corner of the room, spelled full of liter in case it needs to go.

Hopefully it will move out soon, but seeing it sprawled happily over my things I know I’m in for a disappointment.

\-----

Harry

I'm waiting at Luna's when she comes to open up in the morning, the bag of warm pastries in my hands wafting delicious smells over my cold face.

"Oh, hello Harry, you're early!" Luna sing songs with a smile while jiggling the skeleton key to open the flimsy lock. "Did you get me a sour cherry scone?"

I shake the bag, "Yeah, plus some. I wasn't sure what Draco would want so I got one of just about everything."

The stubborn door swings open and she beams, "That's awfully sweet of you. I really did enjoy seeing him yesterday, it felt like both closure and seeing an old friend, you know?"

I nod and follow her inside, setting the pastry bag on the counter as she switches on all of the lights and coos at the still sleeping birds.

Magical Menagerie closed down during the war and the owner decided to finally retire. His building was on the smaller side and could only house the everyday Wizarding pets: rats, toads, Kneazles, Crups, Pygmy Puffs, and owls.

Luna got her rare magical creatures license and opened her shop only a few weeks after the war before the Ministry had even settled.

It was only when I saw the new shop I reconnected with her, if she hadn't opened her shop I might not have seen her again. Reconnecting is just by chance with no one knowing each other’s new addresses, the Ministry still regrouping, and many moving to other countries to start over.

If Draco hadn't shown up at my door I probably never would have seen him again after the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Can you go check on the owls, Harry?" Luna calls out over the waking squawks of the birds and I give her a thumbs up.

The owls are in a large aviary at the back of the store, the space was a strip of concrete between Diagon Alley and the windowless backs of Muggle buildings. The concrete's been spelled to grass and a large tree sits in the center, fed both by magical and natural light. The birds sit on the branches and play on rope toys all day long, owls of all different sizes and colors coexisting until they are adopted.

It's a much better sight than when I went into Magical Menagerie with Hagrid where all the owls were in cages hardly bigger than themselves.

With the birds being so happy and free to fly about, they choose their owners instead of the other way around.

A large eagle owl swoops down to me, landing on the ground at my feet to hoot loudly, which stirs some of the others.

I crouch down and give my hand to the big bird and it hops away before boldly hopping up.

"Are you hungry? Do you want some food?"

It tilts it’s head to the side and another bird flies down, this one a Snowy owl. It flares its wings at me and bobs it's head in a challenge.

"Alright, I’ll get you food!" I exclaim to the owls with a laugh as the tree seems to wake up at the sound of my voice. I go back in and start preparing the owls breakfast, filled with more energy and excitement than I usually do while spending the morning at Luna's.

Because Draco is coming.

.....

Draco

I don't know what time Luna's shop opens so I decide to leave at eight which gives me plenty of time to worry about my appearance and cook three breakfasts- the first one having burnt, the second batch of eggs not being totally unsalvageable, and the third plate of eggs being for the Kneazle.

"Come on, go back home, please." I beg the Kneazle who sits staring at me not three meters away. It blinks languidly and flicks it's smooth tail.

I sigh and pat my pockets one more time to make sure I have everything; I won't come unprepared and if that means bringing two pairs of dragon-hide gloves, so be it.

"Don't piss on my things," I huff as I close and then lock my door, trapping the creature inside to lay havoc to my possessions. I turn and give it a stern look before throwing my over-sized hood over my head and Apparating from the security of my apartment to Diagon Alley.

Immediately, a Daily Prophet cretin shoves the latest in front of my face, "Want a copy of the most read Wizarding newspaper in the UK? Get your Daily Prophet! Harry Potter's been seen conversing with Celestina Warbeck- Is it Love? Get your Daily Prophet!"

I shake my head and duck away, speed walking with my head down through the filling up street. I glance up through my hood every few steps to stare at the changes Diagon has went through and what new businesses have replaced the old. It's all so painfully familiar, sending me back to shopping trips with mother and catching glimpses of toys I was not allowed to have. The chatter of happy witches feels like needles against my hidden scars, a painful reminder burning itself into my forearm.

The feeling of rebirth rampant throughout the Alley feels stale and moldy to me, aware that I'm undeserving and unwelcome. I slip through the crowd, darting through tight spaces, grateful for my small, easily unnoticed body. Covered head to toe in a cloak spelled to be oversized, I am indistinguishable from any other witch or wizard.

I make it to Ollivander’s old building unscathed and I pause a moment to take in the beautifully reworked exterior. The twin bay windows are bright and the stone is polished, fantastic birds sit in the large windows on each side of the door and the sign simply declares _Luna's_.

Not wanting to linger on the street, I open the door and go inside.

It's early but there are still customers inside, a witch and her young daughter watching the bright birds and others looking in cages.

I stop, looking around as I try to orient myself. The towering shelves of dusty wand boxes are gone and instead a wide-open space and high ceiling allows the light to shine through. Countless numbers of animals make their own unique calls, mixing together into _loudness_ that has a presence of its own.

"Draco!" Luna Lovegood calls excitedly from the front desk and I freeze where I stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this I had a thought- In reality owls are nocturnal so why do owls deliver mail during the day in Harry Potter? It makes no sense lol so I just decided they're magical owls. 
> 
> I mostly feel like this was a filler chapter while still allowing some info. I actually had a minute of panic when I sat down at my writing laptop and opened it up to there only being a couple of sentences of chapter nine. In that brief moment I thought I had already posted chapter eight and hadn't wrote for so many days. My brain broke lol.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and if you like my writing check out the drabble I just posted before this chapter :) It's not in the same story as this but on its own. Bookmark, Kudos, and comment plz!


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